Little Boy, Blue
by Tragedy Tay
Summary: It was a boy. A beautiful, perfect, tiny baby boy...Sethummer.


AN: I inserted a line from Sloppy Firsts by Megan McCafferty in here. It's kind of hard to spot.

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It was a boy.

Eight pounds, seven ounces, of beautiful, perfect, tiny, baby boy.

And Summer had cried.

She'd cried as she delivered the little rat, because it HURT.

She would cry more later.

Summer wasn't sure when she'd started crying, but she knew that she hadn't stopped. Not really.

She wasn't sure if she ever would.

The delivery had been.....long, is what she remembered best. Thirty hours of labor.

People were running around, and Summer was bawling, and Cohen was squeezing her hand, and kissing her forehead, and Marissa might have been there, but maybe she wasn't, and there was yelling, and then-

A baby.

Summer had still been crying, but not from pain, or sadness.

Summer was crying because Summer was a Mommy. And Cohen was a Daddy.

And there was a little baby boy that they were going to name Benjamin, or maybe Simon.

And Summer was happy.

But then, the yelling didn't die down. It started up again, louder.

And Cohen wasn't there.

Summer sat up, and looked in front of her. Doctors, racing around again.

And Cohen was there too. He looked scared.

No crying from the baby though. That was weird.

Then Cohen saw something. His eyes grew big, and he ran out of the room.

But Summer was still there. Still in that bed.

And then one of the doctors moved over a few steps.

And Summer saw him. She saw her baby.

Just for a second.

A flash of blue.

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That was one year ago.

Exactly one year ago.

The year since had been what could only be described as a hell.

Especially in the first few weeks, planning a funeral for the poor little stranger, that barely had a chance to exist.

Buying a tiny little headstone, instead of buying stuffed animals.

A tiny little angel, that said "Simon Eric Cohen." That was it.

Sitting through the service, while they wanted to be anywhere but.

Getting hugged by everyone, when they just wanted to screm, and shove them off.

The silence.

Seth and Summer were each caught up in their own grief, they barely talked to each other. It was all just routine.

Routines were good.

Routines meant you didn't have to think.

Because Summer was afraid that if she thought about it, for even one second, she would go crazy.

They were strangers, cohabitating. Nothing more.

They still had sex, but even that had become routine, a temporary release.

And somehow, she had gotten pregnant.

Again.

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Summer is pushing again, desperate to get this new life out of her, to see if it is indeed that.

A life.

The last months have been...amazing. For everyone.

Cohen's been happy, joking around, laughing again. As they got closer and closer to the due date, with no complications, a tiny smile on his face has always been present. Every once in a while, he leans over, and touches her quickly expanding stomach, and gives her a goofy, excited grin. Every time he feels the baby kick, he gives a little sigh of relief.

They've been kissing more too.

He is almost always the one to initiate it, she usually can't bring herself to. But whenever she does, it's slow, and it's sweet, and it's good.

The forehead kisses have made a comeback too, over the last few months.

Every morning, before he leaves, Cohen kisses her forehead, then her stomach.

And sometimes, she pulls him in for an actual kiss.

And then sometimes, they get a little caught up in it.

And then sometimes, they're both a little late for wherever they have to be.

But now it's anything but routine.

They painted the baby's room again, and talked and joked the entire time. They put the crib back together, bought a jillion toys, and they managed to do it all without remembering the first time.

Much.

Summer pushes again, harder, and Cohen brushes some hair out of her face, kissing her, whispering soothing words she can't quite hear, but that relax her just the same. This baby is much less patient than the first one, which makes Summer think that it must take after her.

This was it.

Summer could feel this second baby, this second chance, coming out. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. She prays that it's okay, because if she has to bury another, she knows that she will die.

She's pushing, and Cohen's hand is shaking in her's, and the doctor is saying something, and someone else is yelling, and then-

A cry.

A tiny litle cry, that gets bigger, and bigger, until the eight pound, two ounce little baby is wailing away in front of Summer.

Her eyes fill with tears.

It's the most beautiful sound she's ever heard.

For the first time in a year and a half, she totally relaxes, and leans her head on Cohen's shoulder. A single tear is running down his cheek. Summer smiles at him. He kisses her.

The doctor shows up then, and hands them the little bundle of baby. Summer looks into his gigantic blue eyes, that will probably turn brown later. She gently brushes the hair that's sticking straight up out of his head. She plays with his tiny toes, and kisses every one of his perfect fingers, until his loud cries turn to gurgles, and her happy sobs turn to contented sighs.

Cohen is just staring on in wonder. Summer glances at the baby's bracelet, and grins at Cohen.

"It's another boy."

Another beautiful, perfect, tiny, baby boy.

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end.


End file.
